Passing Into The Night
by SpockTasticallyFascinating
Summary: A Norse God stood, waiting for anyone or anything to happen, for anyone to catch his interest. But, little did he know that the person waitng for him would steal far more than just his gaze. Steve/Loki, future Shota-con
1. Chapter 1

A man stood outside, waiting.

Though the night was bleak and desolate, the street lamps cold and flickering out into the chill, there he was, a shadowed watchdog searching endlessly into the air. His perpetual gaze, like one of a god or deity, swiveled in constant motion, the dingy old neighborhood a continuous background for the sharp green eyes that observed it.

Many a night, one would be accustomed to seeing a lone wanderer at such a late hour. In such a place as this, the night was never without a man searching its depths; perhaps to contemplate his origins or the path he was given. But, on this very night, blasts of cold arctic air swirled from the north over New York, creating thick rolls of fog that had sent dreamers and drunkards scurrying to their beds, leaving that cloaked man alone, a raven-haired statue.

Except, he never was truly alone.

In an alleyway, one so dank and miserable that it eluded even the night-watcher, a boy crouched in silence. With his blonde-flecked hair tangled and matted, with clothes blackened by soot and stain, he could pass for the parade of orphans that shared the streets. Only his eyes shared what his appearance could not.

They were an odd blue, adhering more to electricity than any other shade or color. They sparkled and glittered with a feral curiosity that far surpassed his sickly frame, shined with a strength only a child could muster and, on this very night, were focused only on the very same man, who was unaware of his entire existence.

This secret game had been going on for an hour at least, leaving his thin chest heaving with constriction from the cold, yet there he watched, entranced. As curiosity got the better of him, he slipped away from the alley wall, further and further away from safety, until his tender foot caught hold of the sharp corner.

A pained gasp escaped his lips as he tumbled to the concrete, alerting the world to his downfall. Spasms of pain rippled down his spine, a current down to his now-useless right leg. A little hand reached back to caress it, and so ensconced in pain was he that he was hardly aware of the shadow looming over him.

After hearing the soft noises, he had silently wandered over to the child, his abnormally soft breathing suppressed by the events unfolding before him. The seconds ticked by slowly, one, two, before a bemused sigh escaped obscured lips. Craning down to observe him, he now stared into those eyes that had been plaguing him for all this time.

"Child, what do you think you are doing?" The voice sounded foreign on the boy's ears, a soft lilt of a whisper with an accented slur that made his words sound dreamy, like a songbird instead of a man.

Translucent hands emerged from his trench coat to ghost over his leg, where the ankle throbbed and burned an angry red. Clucking his tongue like a disappointed mother, a black hat whirled off of his head, splaying short black tresses like leaves in the lamplight, which accentuated a sharp, angular face, furrowed in concentration.

"To have hurt yourself so badly by watching my watching..." The corners of his lips upturned in wondrous amusement, instilling a sense of anger in the child, who scowled with an indignant expression.

"So, you've come over here to laugh at me and mock me in the middle of the night without me even knowing your name first?"

Sighing softly to himself, the man cupped that bitter face gently, with a gentleness that was unexpected by both of them. "My _name_ is Loki, _Steven_, and I am only trying to assist you. You looked as if you needed it."

And, through the bewilderment of a complete stranger knowing his name, and all of the other events that had passed that night, Steve couldn't help but believe him.


	2. Chapter 2

Steven awoke to a strange sound rumbling in his ears. _A drum, maybe? _His head swam in the thoughtless flow of sleep, swirling a strange blurriness across his eyes that he couldn't combat. His body swung to and fro, back and forth, as if he were...being...carried!

"Where are you...taking me?" A blue eye cracked open very slowly, trying to discern just who it was, and very familiar emerald orbs answered him, pupils slightly dilated in the shadows of his sharp face. The drum beat increased tempo in his eardrums, as if startled.

Loki hesitated, one second, two, three...

"You fell unconscious, presumably from your ankle." The swollen limb throbbed in response, and a hiss escaped from pink lips on a breath, like an afterthought. "Because I do not know where you reside, or even if you have a home at all, I am suggesting that you stay with me for a short time." The man winced at the subtle cracking of his voice, but continued on anyway.

"Do you accept?" The throbbing in Steve's ears had reached a crescendo like a symphony, and he could feel the soft intake of breath against him, held in what seemed like urgency. He glanced up to stare at Loki, who only peered back, the question held sharply in his eyes, as if though worlds were waiting and dependent on his reply. A little upturn of his lips held the answer.

"You are offering me, an orphan, a place to stay. Why on earth would I say no?" The tense arm muscles relaxed around him so quickly that he could count them, feel the smooth cartilage release him from its death-grip. Like that, all was calm once again in the arms of Loki.

A sharp wing howled across his ears, stinging sharply against his soft skin like knives, leaving him no choice but to burrow against the infiltrating winds into the larger man's chest. Exhaustion swept over him once more in waves, dragging him further and further out into dreamland. Being a sickly thing, he fought not against the current, letting it dissolve him into restful sleep.

Warm hands carded through his hair as his eyes gently closed, tossing the blonde locks softly over the boy's shoulder.

"Maybe...haps...you..." The words faded out into the growing darkness.

Loki was fairly sure it wasn't common practice on Midg-_Earth _to see a fairly tall, suspicious-looking man carrying a ten-year-old boy through the streets in the wee hours of the morning. Including when said boy was currently snoring away into his shoulder like the newest pillow. Or when there was wet stain on his upper arm that he _really _did not want to think about, but, all in all, he couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the situation.

In fact, a soft chuckle echoed out into the smoggy darkness, because it _was _strange, wasn't it, to feel more welcomed and loved toting around a strange orphan boy whose name he only learned recently than every single day he had spent on Asgard with his wretched brother.

He wobbled his way up the stairs, which was _not _an easy task considering he had about 90 pounds of dead-weight, and, as he stood to open the rusted door knob, he looked up. Just for a moment, the god's eyes soared to the heavens, where he knew the Gate-Keepers endless gaze glared back at him, as unending and perpetual as the energy burning under his skin. And he _smirked_.

"Do you see, Heimdall? Do you see how trusted and beloved I am to this child? How sweet it is to him? I will protect him from what he will encounter, and maybe, perhaps, you will once again trust me, like you trust _Thor_?!" His voice began to echo louder and louder beneath the sky, like a venomous snake daring for a fool to take a closer step. His throat burned and ached, but longer he spoke, until he felt a little tremble from around, Steven's soft protest from his dreams.

His body froze, and he slowly stepped inside, draping his dead-weight over the couch with a gentle press, and, as he readied himself for bed that night, he wondered if the gods felt just as violent as he did.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Loki noticed was the soft breathing.

But, unlike his usual sharp abhorrence to any other being anywhere near him, the soft puffs of breath whispering from the couch was a comfort so early in the morning, a lullaby to quell his already-subdues senses into complete ignorance.

And yes, it probably was not best to watch him sleep, but could he help the fact that everything about him was so conducive, so glittering and warm? No, of course not. So, he simply sat and watched, legs crossed and eyes wandering with reckless abandon, absorbing the surroundings closely.

The Sun began to creep slowly over the horizon, bathing the usually-dark scene in a golden light that chased away the black miasma of the night before, warming the Trickster's frozen skin with a delight that made his body quiver with pleasure as he stared unabashedly at this living, _breathing _boy curled into his couch, tucked into the cushions as if he were a burrowing mouse sheltering from the cold.

He watched as plump Cupid's bow lips pressed together in sweet, childish concentration, a press on the inhale, a sigh on the exhale. The air around him smelled cloyingly sweet and honeyed, so heavy he felt the burden of it on his tongue; he felt his head swimming with intoxication and a startling curiosity that he could neither name nor place. He had to get away, had to remove himself from the situation, from the extraordinary creature that heaved beside him, but, for the life of him, he couldn't move an inch. He felt trapped again, just as he had with the boy nestled in his arms.

A little whimper burbled from the back of Steven's throat, and, before the god could disappear or cower in the darkness of the shadows, a warm softness burned against his right cheek, raising hair from cheek to collarbone.

Broken nails scratched and scrabbled at his pale skin, while bony digits grated against his cheekbones, but with 90 pounds of terrified child fully awake and grasping his neck like a life-preserver made everything in the god's mind, pain included, a little less important.

"What...?" His voice trailed off and died in the back of his throat, as he felt rather detached from his body at the moment. Shivers and trembling assaulted his spine, and took him more than a few moments to realize that they weren't his own. In the growing sunlight of the morning, Loki had a strange epiphany.

_He is having a nightmare. Here. In my apartment. Alone. And he needs me to comfort him. _His mind stuttered, overloaded and short-circuiting with the smell of tears and the carnal scent of fear and sweat. This had never happened before. Never had any being, be they adult or child, had ever requested for his affections, for his hand to hold or warmth to take. The thought of it was making him feel weak and, regrettably, absolutely terrified, yet, as the minutes passed, he held on tightly.

The bigger problem was convincing himself that the excited racings of his heart were merely figments of his imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve didn't think he'd ever been so hungry in his entire life than he was right now, atop the kitchen counter.

From below his perch, Loki was scrambling around the tile floor, stirring some unknowable concoction in a large pot simmering on the stove. He hadn't a clue what the ingredients were, as he _swore_ the man conjured them out of thin air, but his watering mouth or grumbling stomach didn't seem to mind either way. The smell of it, something foreign and spicy, wafted around the room in thick swathes of heat and flavor. Steve sighed, pleased.

"What _are_ you cooking, anyway?" Loki turned up to look at him, busy annoyance shimmering within green depths.

"I don't believe it matters as long as you can eat it. Or are you telling me you don't want it?" A cold frown answered his words, causing him to glance away, slightly terrified at the anger echoing in his throat. Loki turned back to his work-in-progress, leaving the blonde boy to shiver. Even though it had been a least a week since he'd woken up to Loki's arms, the raven had been so on-edge and vicious that Steve was beginning to wonder if his life on the street was kinder.

"Children are so spoiled; I wonder why I even try with _disgusting_ brats like you. I've given you everything you could ever need, and yet you feel the need to question what I do at all times. You would have been better off, left in that alleyway in _filth _and _darkness_ that you were born in."

_That hurt_.

Loki hadn't raised his voice once, yet he could feel the shredding darkness behind his words, ripping into him like a knife through butter. A muffled sob escaped him as Steve turned away, trying to mask the feelings of sickness and worthlessness that swirled in the pit of his stomach, and his breathing was starting to shake and rattle in his lungs.

_He hates me._

It wasn't as if he hadn't heard this type of thing before. Bad sentiments were thrown at him at a regular basis, from the bigger, stronger boys who beat him in alleyways to the mothers who felt their children would be contaminated to even glance his way. But, this time, the tears came, and, as he flipped off the counter and escaped to the living room that he now called home, betrayal called to him in every soft step he made.

_Why? Why does it hurt so much? What did I do to deserve this? _If he could scream these things to the world, it wouldn't have been enough. But instead he curled up on the cheap carpet, along with the dark stains and the dust, and sobbed. Cried and whimpered in the silence of the locked room, murmured heartbroken nothings to the white walls that soaked up his sounds into powder and silt, until he collapsed, running out of tears to cry and voices to yell.

The clanging and curses from the kitchen had long died, the bubbling and hissing of the sink gone quiet and still, leaving a child alone in his fear and a man alone in his denial, both on two opposite sides of the door, wishing someone would find the courage to open it.

Loki wasn't attached. Not to anyone. He had no lovers, no friends, no acquaintances, nobody to know his name. Nor was he becoming attached to this sweet, sickly, sobbing boy hiding from his words behind the pale doors that he knew weren't locked. He most certainly _did not_ want to go and fling it open, to press the child into his chest and kiss him senseless, to tell him that he was sorry and that he didn't mean any of it. No, because he didn't have anyone. Ever.

So he sat alone, very aware of the whimpers from the other room and the banging of the walls made by thin, bony fists, and ate his soup with feigned interest. He swirled his spoon around with concentration, a distraction that he was eager to create for himself.

"This is how it must be, yes... I am going to get back to Asgard, and that is much more important than a worthless child..." He heard his voice, but for once, he couldn't make himself believe it. He was vaguely aware that the hot soup was spilling over onto his hands, burning his thin skin, but pain had left him alone to his thoughts, to the areas of confliction no words or lies could soothe to rest. "A worthless child..."

The words were heavy on his tongue, bringing up too many dark and morbid memories than the Trickster could ever conceal, and he realized how much he sounded like the ones he hated: The Allfather, Thor, Freya, and Freyr, the ones whom he'd promised to _never_ emulate, the ones whom he was becoming.

His teeth gnashed in disgust, and he stood without thinking. _I refuse! I refuse to make those peoples' stupid, painful mistakes! I won't ever be like them, never! _The door was thrown back, squealing on its hinges, as if in warning of the darkness ahead.

The room was trashed, with furniture displace against outside walls and clothes in heaping piles against the left wall, an ominous shadow threatening to tumble and engulf him. But that wasn't what caught his eyes.

In the middle of the room lay what was important. Still awake but barely lucid, Steven was curled up into himself like a baby in a mother's womb, his forehead between his knees, exposing a thin column of skin from his jaw to right shoulder blade. A sniffle would erupt from his throat at random, but for the most part, he sat silently, as if waiting for the world to end.

Loki felt his heart wrench as he bent over to him, but no words escaped him. Instead, his hands pressed lovingly across his back as he tried to soothe him, to mend the disaster he had created from the start His piano fingers kneaded into tense muscles, and he could feel the muscles tense every time he touched them, repelling the sensation.

_Now, now is the time._

"Steven... I-" His voice cut-off mid-thought as the boy leaped into his arms, crying so hard he thought each heave might kill him, snuff out his precious life forever. In a mirror, of events passed, Loki was once again held a child in his arms, a scared and lonely child who meant the world to him, and possibly more than that. But, this time, a heavier thought weighed on his mind. Moving closer to his little ear, his usually pronounced voice came out as a whisper.

"Steven, I love you, and I'm sorry. So very sorry..." And, for the second time in his life, Loki, God of Mischief, began to cry.


	5. Chapter 5

They had spent all night just like that, with Steven and Loki both intertwined with one another, as if they were one body, sharing the heat and emotions that had bubbled to the surface like precious oxygen. Tears dripped and ran against one another, swirling together as they tumbled down flushed noses and blazing cheeks, becoming so mixed that neither of them knew who was crying anymore, just that it _was_.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm so very sorry..._" These words became a mantra in Loki's head, and he couldn't help but murmur them over and over into his shoulder, as if saying them more would make them _mean_ something. Steven listened, just as enraptured, with an odd mix of bitterness and euphoria, so lost for words that all he could do was try to breathe and listen to the soft ticks of the clock churning with Loki's rhythmic chanting. One tick, two ticks, three...four...five...

_I've already forgiven him._ He was shocked, not for the thought, but for the fact that it had taken him all of an hour to get this far. His blush returned, so hot he swore that his tears were evaporating into thin air like steam. "Loki, it's okay, I'm not angry anymore... I swear." He raised his head slowly, as if it were being dragged up, afraid and worried of what he might see in them, but _needing _to see them all the same. "_I promise..."_

For a moment, a split second in the darkness of the room, the sharp face was so wracked with grief and pain he felt the urge to cry well up in him. But, there was a glimmer in his eyes, a sharpness that was indefinable but so precious that the boy knew he had understood.

"Why do you forgive me? I was so...cruel to you." His gaze averted to the floor, in self-loathing.

"I don't think those words were meant for me." Green eyes jumped back to him, shocked and bemused, as he stood to his feet, soft toes creating a muffled thump as they dug absentmindedly into the carpet. "And if they were, it was a defense on your part, not an attack towards me." He stops for a split second, mouth pressed together in his usual way of thought. "Whoever did something to make you like this doesn't deserve your emotions or your time, because both of those are too precious for anyone to take from you."

A grin slipped in unconsciously as he turned, but it wasn't any kind of smirk Loki could recall. It was too bright and fantastic, as if the sun had come just to bestow itself in one facial expression, and held a certainty and cheek that he was sure he'd had once, even if it was long ago. It was godly, in a way that Loki could only imagine, but so fitting on this child's face.

"You aren't from around here, are you?" Its tone was more of a statement than a query. The room echoed with silence when, just for a second, a little ghost of a chuckle burst from pale lips and floated out into the open air. The laughter came faster and faster, with peals of rampant giggles escaping Loki's throat and with diaphragm spasms that would have been most painful if he weren't so absorbed in his glee.

Poor Steve was so confused you could feel the worry dripping off of his face like sweat, and, for all it was worth, it just made the man laugh obscenely all the more. His breath came in short aborted gasps as he came down from his euphoric high to finally glance back into the blue oceans that captured him.

"W-Was I wrong? I mean, did I-"He broke off, obviously flustered at what he thought was teasing. Loki sighed patiently.

"No, no of course not! You... you couldn't be more correct, in fact." He smiled, which felt odd on his face but not at all out of place as his hands lingered on Steve's shoulders. "I am most certainly _not _from anywhere near here. Nowhere close to here. It was very...very amusing for you to say so. It reminded me that you are still a child..."

They smirked stupidly at each other for a moment, as if the world didn't matter. Steve mentioned something about feeling tired, as it was...oh, 2:30 in the morning, that isn't good. And, as he wandered off to retrieve his clothes, thin hips swaying back and forth, he realized he was completely besotted with this odd boy he'd only for a week. But, the oddest thing was that he couldn't care less.


	6. Chapter 6

The days seemed eternally long recently, as if the Sun had decided to be lenient on the passing of the hours. The days that had passed since his revelation were ones he could still count on the digits of his fingers, yet they dragged on with an sluggishness that made the God of Mischief want to curl up and hibernate, if only to pass the time.

He spent these days curled up in odd spots, a.k.a. the windowsill, the bookshelf tops, and even the balcony near the window if he was truly desperate, brooding with enough intensity to frighten off even the alley cats who normally visited him. His lips were permanently pressed into a scowl that might have hurt a lesser man, but Loki was no such man, and so he sat, irritated and bored with the complete intention of hiding out here for eternity.

Too bad that someone else had decided _against_ that.

For Steven, like the insistent puppy that Loki had imagined him to be, sat outside with him, watching the hustle and disputes of the early morning everyday without fail. Even if the God woke up before the Sun even bothered to think about rising, soon enough, the soft rustle of the glass door and whispering feet joined him in the shadows and the chilliness.

This had been frustrating the first six times, with a loud string of annoyance and the boy running off as if he had been smacked, but now it felt like a routine, some unspeakable ritual that neither of them were willing to break simply because it would require explaining, and neither of them knew the words to express anyway.

Instead of thinking on this like he should have, Loki let his thoughts wander, let them drift away along with the soft breeze and his loathed brothers words into the mists, feeling an odd serenity within as the boy began to doze off on his shoulder and clutch onto him like something treasured and important, like he was _wanted_. He supposed this is what a parent should feel like, and yet even that made him want to dismiss it, because that wasn't even adequate for what his heart murmured to him.

"Love, perhaps...?" The words left his lips before he could filter them, before his mind could swallow them up into the sea of bad ideas that he had been creating since childhood, because _was it so improbable? Was it such a terribly wrong idea that a man could worship a child in such a way that it made the outside disappear? Was it? _The normal, logical response was yes, but he couldn't bear to hear it out of his own mouth, as his hopes were much too prevalent to deny.

And all the mental preparation and guarding crumble to the ground when he felt Steven stir, and he knew those eyes were on him when the soft sounds of breathing inched closer to his neck. He avoided the eye contact like a disease, because not even Heimdall knew what events would occur if he answered them.

"Is something bothering you? Did I..." _Did I bother you? Did I make you this way? Did I cause this pain?_ Loki couldn't answer the question, for there were numerous that could've been asked, but the tone was understood, with the same intonations of manic anxiety and overbearing curiousity that occupied him like a spirit, trailing his footsteps while hidden by the bitterness that could have been poisonous.

He could feel the body heat against his sweater, which was more of a distraction that he'd planned it to be, and he could feel it suffocating him. Everything was coming, too fast, too hard, too much... His breath began to speed up, and, in a fit of courage far larger than he could've ever mustered, his head, flushed and chalky simultaneously, craned his neck to gaze back.

That was the biggest mistake of the ones he'd made thus far.

Steven was close. _Too close. __**Very close.**_ Their noses bumped and slid against each other in a sensation that Loki wouldn't mind feeling for the rest of his life. His small hands were so outstretched they were almost around his inner thighs, and he was pretty sure it was hard to explain to a grade-schooler why his trousers were tented. He was so close he could smell the things the boy had eaten, and if this had been disgusting to a normal man, then he was certainly too far gone.

"I...didn't...mean...I-I, um, was..." His lips were moving, but Loki couldn't hear a word, watching them mouth meaningless nothings as he was frozen. Vaguely, he realized the boy was trying to move away and instinctively moved forward to keep him from falling off the balcony to his death.

Their lips caught.

And Loki felt like fainting, felt like slipping off of the terrace into a painful death, because _oh, he could taste everything on his tongue, the growing pressure of pink lips against him, caressing his mouth, and __**oh, it's too much...**_ The whimpers that escaped them were ambiguous, and Loki didn't even care whose they were as long as this perfect being stayed curled around him, twining their tongues together and feeling a sensation that transcended ecstasy course through him like drugs.

_It's too good..._

They broke apart, and with Steven staring like he had just shown him the meaning of everything, Loki knew he had him, knew he could press their lips together and feel this boy whimper and moan for him, feel him clutch little fingers against his shoulders. _He's mine, all mine._

_**This is far too good.**_


	7. Chapter 7

This had never happened before.

Steve, in the course of his life, had not ever received affection even close to what he was feeling right now, and most certainly not this way. Not with an absolutely gorgeous abusive foreigner wrapped around his body, sucking his tongue like it was his sole achievement. _Oh god, he's...Mmn!_

He vainly attempted to push away, but sick body couldn't find mode nor means to do so, so he was trapped, feeling something so wonderful and pleasurable that he was sure they would both fall off the balcony. Loki's tongue had invaded his mouth, running across the lines of his teeth and nipping his lips with urgency, for there was not enough breath between them to last, and Steve had moaned so loudly he could feel it vibrate through his skin from his toes.

Loki moved away for a fraction of a second, leaving him empty and heaving, gasping for breath that he could never keep normally, much less now. His nerves were blazing, so heated and warm that he was withering away into the morning, despite the chill that permeated the air. His hands still grasped onto the front of Loki's olive sweater, and on impulse he yanked forward, pulling their bodies flush together, now enveloped in Loki's heat and scent, carnal and pulsing with pheromones that he had never noticed before.

"Steven..." _Ah, his voice sounds so...good. _His voice had jumped an octave, becoming a low and seductive growl into his neck. He gasped as a kiss was planted in the crux between neck and shoulder, making him tighten his grip if only to steady his wobbling legs. "I want you in my bed. Now." This was accompanied by rubbing against his hips and thighs, killing his inhibitions on his tongue and turning his body to jelly. Swathes of heat arched in his thighs, as if those words were burning him from the waist down, meeting at his crotch with a ferocious need that he had never known existed.

"Y-You want... t-to have..." The word couldn't escape him, he could feel it branded on his tongue, and it was _so wrong. He couldn't, he shouldn't, but I... _Panic hit him like starbursts and he felt his body tremble and shake with the tears that fell, like crystals shimmering across his cheeks. He felt Loki's gasp against him, and his jaw was tilted up to meet emerald storm clouds, each emotion as indistinguishable and ephemeral as the next, overlaid with a backdrop of worry.

"Steven, please don't cry. Don't shed your tears for me. If you don't want it, I won't ever touch you again..." His heart skipped a beat. _No, don't go! Please, don't leave me like this! _His thoughts screamed what he could not say, and instead of running he buried his flaming cheeks into the man's chest, feeling so happy and wanted that he cried just a little more. But they weren't sad tears any longer.

He peered up, rubbing his itchy eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't go. I don't want you to leave me ever. I... want you to have sex with me..." As soon as the words left him, the heat exploded across the plane of his shoulders and neck, something that would have been disturbing if he hadn't been prepared for it. His hand was snatched up quickly, and before he could ask why, a soft kiss was pressed against it, against the vein and knuckle where his lifeline thumped, and the man sank to his knees fluidly, like water.

"I foreswear to you that I will not cause or bring any harm or malice upon you, as this is my vow for your safety and protection. And, if I shatter such limitations to your personal being, I will bring it upon myself to take my punishments and judgment as you would give to me. Are the terms of my contract clear?"

The words echoed around the building like a grand play, and his words even seemed part of one, a glorious script written for his own sake. Steve's mouth felt arid, and his mouth was dropped slightly, very much surprised at the turn of events, but the fact of the matter was, he needed to say something, so he cleared his throat and started onward.

"You would do something so important for my sake, even though you've only known me for a week? Why? Why put yourself out in the open?" His voice sound angry and he inwardly flinched at what he'd done. _What have I done? He will probably hate me now, on top of...everything. _

A soft voice answered, still on his knees, face hidden against the tops of his palms. Though it was quiet, every word was pronounced so clearly he could have heard it from a distance.

"I love you, child."

The dizziness took over and Steven Rogers collapsed, a ragdoll in the arms of the man who foreswore to his safety, and his mind faded into unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wake...Steve...Steven, do you hear me...?" This wasn't the first time he had woken up with his body in an odd way, but he was pretty sure he'd never heard such an anxious voice before. It seemed to grab and tug at his consciousness, which was nearly submerged in the viscous fluid of the darkness behind his eyelids, urging him to emerge back into the bright lights shining ahead. "Steven, come back to me..."

_Okay, maybe I will, if only to see this person again. _His body jerked forward in agreement, sliding robotically into the shimmering distance, and he felt himself dissolve softly into the glitter...

"Steven, _do you hear me_?" His eyelids flipped open, fluttering with the bombardment of light and sound in such a dizzying array of colors that he feared he wouldn't focus ever again, but the voice was still calling him, sounding more and more worried and shaken in each repetition, asking if _he was alright? Are you? _Gritting his teeth with effort, his eyes once again looked up, and with pupils dilated from overexposure, the scene above looked milky and blurred.

Loki was crouched low upon his knees like he remembered him last, pressing his angular body against Steve's chest, with a slender wrist against his jugular, in which Steve assumed was his search for his pulse. His hands were shaking nervously, and he couldn't prevent the soft twitches that consumed his body like waves in the ocean, traveling from the wide, occupied gaze to bare feet splayed out to the far sides of his hips. He was an absolute mess in his worries, and he felt a twinge in his ribcage to know he was the target.

"Oh, thank gods... You'd been incapacitated for at least an hour, and your pulse was low, so I'd thought you had fallen into a coma..." His lips still trembled minutely as he breathed a relieved sigh from the bottom of his lungs. "Do you...remember what has transpired before you lost consciousness?" _Do I remember? What do I need to...?_

_**Oh.**_

His cheeks flushed sharply as the avalanche of memory came hurtling back to him, ending only when he realized that the man who had just told a child he loved him was sprawled over him and so close he could smell the fear scent and sweat from his clothes as Loki had apparently lugged him to the inside carpet. Fortunately, the man had sense enough to look down and realize it, and quickly slipped off with a mumbled apology on his tongue.

Their cheeks were equally red as they diverted their gazes elsewhere, as if not acknowledging the form across from them was going to solve everything. Too many odd thoughts were weighing on his mind, along with the other half reminding him _just how many laws this man was breaking and had broken, thank you._ There was no doubt that a man loving a 10-year-old was both morally and lawfully illegal- _but who were they to judge if they'd never experienced it?_

Something snapped in him, a quick conviction that had gotten him in more fights than anything, but something that he had always valued for its ability to make decisions. And, before he could quell his own thoughts and racing heartbeat, he found himself straddling Loki's lap and feeling more alive than he'd ever felt in his entire life. Loki stuttered, obviously confused as to why he was being aggressive so suddenly but he could only curl against him.

"I don't want to worry about it any longer." He pulled his head back to stare directly into the man's eyes, of which he knew too little and too much about. Steve didn't need a mirror to know what expression was on his face, for Loki's widening pupils were all he needed. "If you want to...do something, just do it. I can't... I can't wait any longer." In the split second it took for that confession to sink in, the world held its breath. But, just as the adrenaline high was fading, he was pushed back, spread eagle into the carpet.

Loki was losing it. The smell of him, the soft curling of warm flesh and skin, and the forbidden confession he had just gotten were driving him completely mad. It was intoxicating, the madness was, and he couldn't help but bury his head into giving skin, hearing the barely muffled whimper as he growled low and deep in his throat. _Everything was so hot, and the body below him was burning up with him, and he needed to claim, bite, and make this body __**his**_. _**All of it was his.**_

Hearing a sharp cry, he craned to the column of the neck, nipping and kneading the flesh against his tongue, transforming it into an abstract of sharp crimson that had Steven shaking, whining on the exhale as sharp canines dug into the fleshy skin of his ear.

"Ah! T-that... hurts." His sentences were punctuated by heavy breaths, and his body squirmed, grinding their hips together in a way that made their backs arch. Loki ravaged and bit at his neck, spreading the spiraling heat to his crotch, where his body was beginning to swell and buck up against its attacker. Sucking a particularly dark love bite under his earlobe, hands ghosted under his shirt, sliding up until they met the erect nipples.

They pinched and pulled at him, tweaking his flesh until they grew rigid and had Steve spreading himself open at the seams. Loki drew back to look at his handiwork, a flushed, whimpering child splayed against the floor, looking so debauched and dirtied that a breathy gasp escaped him.

"_Oh, Steven, you should see yourself, you should see how __**dirty**_ _you are... How much your body wants me to tear it apart at the seams, how much it wants me to __**fuck you senseless.**_" He gasped, and Loki gripped his hips, untucking his shirt as if it were cursed. It was ripped in half and immediately discarded, revealing his true prize.

His bare chest was _hot, _so burning to the touch he could feel the sweat dissipate into the air. The cleft between chest and torso was dripping and beaded with sweat that dripped and swirled into his navel, along with his abused nipples that throbbed impatiently, begging him wantonly as the sweat furled around wide hips, highlighting just how round and perfect this child was, more so than any fantasy could make up for.

Steven murmured, "Do you like what you see?" if it were any other, it would've been flirtation, but the shame and worry in his tone said otherwise. As he couldn't find the words to answer him, the god pressed low, leaving a soft kiss just above his left hip, shaping a trail with his tongue over to just above the navel, where a faded scar crisscrossed against his soft belly. A satisfying shiver accompanied it as Loki worshipped him, and untarnished hands came to grasp into his scalp, increasing in pressure and force as he lowered his grasp. As he reached the zipper, he nuzzled into the crotch, feeling the organ twitch and bounce against its restraints. Wetness pressed against the front, smelling of sex and the oily smell of body fluid, making his arousal painfully apparent.

A small chuckle came from Loki as he looked up, feeling eyes on him. "_Your body is really honest, huh? Such impatience..."_ The zipper was pulled down with his front teeth, letting the obstructive trousers slip away, revealing a bulge that wasn't nearly as small as his wide hips and stature hinted to. The boxers beneath were completely soaked and transparent, showing the flushed skin. He could feel Steve gasp and turn, as if trying to hide from his arousal, with thin palms covering his eyes that Loki quickly batted away. "_Don't hide your face. It's too beautiful to be hidden away from me."_

Steve moaned, bucking up and pressing his hips instinctually against Loki's right cheek, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever. "Just...do i-**ah!" **The whole of his body spasmed, the inside of Loki's throat wrapped around him, creating tightness and a pressure that he couldn't bother to fight or shy away from. The warmth of him there was so heated and soothing, which only increased every time the man swallowed. His back arched, trying to get as close as possible to the _pleasure of it all!_

All of sense faded out except for the one assaulting his crotch, the rhythmic sucking of his body through his boxers that made his hips tip up to meet it, sliding in a slick pattern that was leaving him breathless. It was all-consuming, so much so that when Loki drew away to breath, he felt a sense of loss as he left him, skin growing cold from the loss of heat and suction. He whimpered, but stayed put, for he couldn't have moved even if he had wanted to.

Finally, after a moment of uncomfortable staring that made the boy want to curl up on himself by reflex, Loki leaned forward and pressed their noses together, their mouths open and sharing air between them, as Steve could nearly smell himself on his lips. Hands snaked up towards his hips, resting on his waistband in wait.

A breath passed. "Steven, I'm going to remove them. You do not have to look if you do not wish to." Loki knew he was nervous, along with his widening pupils and thudding heart, and mercifully pressed kisses along his nose down to his mouth. He waited, finding his resolve, before he pushed down, feeling the fabric bunch but give all the same. Loki didn't look, simply out of courtesy, but he couldn't help but explore across the newly-exposed flesh, across wide thighs that thinned smoothly into ankles and the broad expanse of knees. Trailing up the inner thigh, he caught hold of the pulse and twitching muscles that were harbored there, greeting him just before he felt the swollen skin of the crotch, where it throbbed into his palms.

He could also feel the body below him shake, a quickly failing attempt at self-control as he stroked languidly, blue eyes so hidden by pupils that they were black ringed by a blue hoop, and it was delicious. His pants tightened painfully, but he kept at it, brushing his hands up and down, scraping his nails across the skin just to hear the pretty moans that accompanied it.

Thinking quickly before he actually _did _lose his mind, he brushed their lips together, swallowing the noises as he explored back, farther into the cleft against his entrance, rubbing the sensitive flesh and feeling the muscles contract and reject his fingers adamantly. This produced one of the most aroused noises yet, a whine that seemed to last an eternity. The pads of his fingers pushed in and out, going a little farther each time until the first digit was enveloped in the tight muscle.

"A-_aaahh, God, that feels so...!" _Loki nipped his ear as he spread his legs apart, trying to get better leverage. "Amazing. I know." He chuckled softly. "You haven't seen anything yet." Grabbing pale hips, he shoved a second finger in, the muscles rippling and contracting as he stroked. Without noticing, Steve surged forward into another kiss, stealing a gasp from both of them that made the god want to smirk if his mouth weren't currently occupied. His left hand fumbled with the button of his trousers, shakily slipping them lower around his hips and lowering his underwear, revealing himself.

"Steven, are you ready?" A nod. "Are you sure you are ready for me?" In a welcome surprise, the boy pulled their faces together, gazing with a strong look of determination and underlying arousal that made Loki shiver under his breath. 'I'm ready.' The words didn't need to be spoken, and his eyes said more than either of them could ever.

Loki swallowed, feeling his throat tighten, and quickly removed his fingers, abating Steven's hiss of pain with a quick kiss to the temple. Spreading his legs apart, Loki took one long breath and pushed all the way in, swallowing Steven's cry of pain and moaning under his breath.

The pressure was thick, so intense Loki found his lip was bleeding from his canines dig into his kiss-bruised flesh, and, as they moved together, thin ankles locked around his hips and two bodies rutting together, he had never felt anything so beautiful in his entire existence. _That makes the tears justified, doesn't it?_


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky was frustrated.

_I mean yeah, Steve gets crazy sick every once in a while, but avoiding me for a week is a little worrisome, isn't it? _He was trampling over the usual meeting spot, a near-abandoned park bench at the edge of the old kid's playground that seemed to be reserved only for the animals and the occasional bored adolescent with a pack of cigarettes. No one would know anyone was ever there, and even with a peaky brown-haired kid pacing back and forth like a psychopath, no one would even spare him a glance.

However, two hours in with his eyes glued toward the entrance was starting to draw doubts toward his mind, wondering where on God's earth his best friend/partner in crime had disappeared to. "What the hell, Steve... where are you?" Feeling the strain of his muscles protesting in his calves, he sunk onto the wooden bench, curling in on himself to shelter his sweat-sleeked body from the chill that seemed to be more prevalent than oxygen.

"I mean, really..." The annoyed voice wasn't even enough to convince himself, as he felt the incessant thrum of worry in his chest, because _what if he got kidnapped? He's not the best street-smart guy ever, what if he took on some huge kids and got pummeled? He could be sick and dying and I wouldn't know a damn thing about it! _His fingers clenched into the bottoms of his coat pockets, because not having the warm, hard-headed blonde by his side was driving him ten shades of crazy and he could do nothing but twitch, rock on his heels, and wait. Wait for something, _anything, _to happen...

"**Brother! Where lies thee?!" **A gigantic booming voice roared from the shadows, sounding more like a lion than a man, enough to make Bucky leap out of his tuck into a sprawl of limbs on the gravel below, feeling the rocks scratch his skin as he scrambled to get to _some _defensive position before this _giant _of a man came any closer.

"**Brother? Are you in hearing of my voice?"**

"W-w-who are you calling for?" Bucky internally cursed himself, for _what kind of man died with a stutter as his last words? Geez! _He finally made it to his feet, when _he _appeared, body staggering under the street lamp for more than one reason.

_This guy is huge!_

He was an enormous hulk of a man, at _least _6'5 with muscles bulging from the depths of his...armor? It was plated with deep slates of metal and glowed silver under the artificial light, making his hair, a dirty blonde, seem to shimmer and swim in his vision. His eyes were a blue, far too clear and determined to belong to any normal man, and Bucky could feel the odd attraction to go and bow to him, to kneel and ask for forgiveness even though it wouldn't get him anything but a kick to the jaw.

"**Mortal boy, I am looking for my dear brother, whom I have determined resides in this area. Have you news or wind of him?" **Bucky could only shake his head dumbly, too entranced to even comprehend what on earth was going on or who this man even was. The man kneeled to his level, meeting his eyes with a certainty that had him avert his eyes, simply in respect.

"Ah, such a shame that is. You looked to be one with a heavy burden indeed, and my brother carries burden wherever his feet may tread. Tell me young one, what problem seems to be on your mind?" And so Bucky spilled, told him everything in a spew of words that he could neither limit nor staunch the flow of. He told him about Steve, about his sickness, _about every freaking worry and problem that he had ever had._ The giant only nodded, looking so caught up in the conversation it was as if he were contemplating a family issue, not an orphan boy he'd met seconds ago. A large hand pressed against his shoulder, and Bucky trembled, feeling terrified.

"Quite a noble dilemma you have there, child. To want to protect this important comrade of yours is a cause worthy of all the gods in Asgard, and yet you can only sit in your own worries. I am sorry for such a problem." He sighs, truly saddened, and Bucky completely denies the racing of his heart.

"I have a request, if it does not bother you." He looks up, still managing to avoid eye contact even as he feels the gaze upon him. "Will you journey with me to locate my missing brother? It will be a better task than this waiting, and perhaps we will find your Steve on our quest. Does this sound fair to you?"

The boy's mouth completely stops working, and it takes a complete reboot to finally make his vocal chords start buzzing. "A-ah yeah, if it's alright with you, sir?"

The smile that this man gives him is so bright he fears he may not see straight again, and the amused chuckle afterward was enough to feel faint. The man stands up easily, pulling up the boy behind as if he was weightless and not 100 or more pounds of body weight. Shimmying out of his firm grip, Bucky stands straight, trying to appear big enough to the man who is large enough to shadow him. He convinces himself his cheeks _are not _six shades of red.

"A-ah, uhm, sir? What's your name?" The man, no, the lion turns around, looking haughty and proud with his beckoning smile.

"**My name is Thor Odinson, son of Odin and Frigga, Norse god of thunder and the realm of all skies. It is my pleasure to accompany you." **

Bucky followed him quietly afterward, with a quiet resolve, _because he didn't have a crush on that guy, okay?!_


	10. Chapter 10

A pleasurable pain.

Steve would have laughed obscenely if he had heard that term scarcely a day before, would've asked you if you were crazy because _there's no way pain can feel good, duh! It's pain! _But all of that was before... before he was curled up in Loki's huge master bed, feeling more pain and happiness than any one person had right to be. The aforementioned man was dozing softly beside him, face no longer a collection of memories and hard lines, rather a blank slate yet to be taken from and impressed upon.

His entire body had the numbing sort of pain, one that seared whenever his muscles even thought about moving, so instead he just curled up and watched, observed his love and all of his room's contents, trying to commit most of the items to memory. He couldn't have been more content if he had tried, and it was fantastic that one person could do such a thing as this to him.

Grimacing as he rolled over, he turned and nearly fell off of the bed when he came face-to-face with Loki, now fully awake and intent on watching. As he slipped, a long hand grabbed his wrist and heaved him back into waiting arms, ensnaring him in a multitude of limbs that, now that he thought about it, _were obnoxiously long. _He must have made a terrible face, because Loki just laughed and pressed their bodies' closer together, skin rubbing in a cathartic way that he couldn't believe he was used to.

"I didn't mean to frighten you so." The raven huffed, still slightly amused as he murmured his apologies into the boy's messy hair, so endearing as it was. "I thought you were more aware..." He just barely avoided a strong kick to the ribs as Steve growled at him, followed by a pained whine as his nerves caught up with the rest of him. Loki clucked, pawing at the tender skin, soothing it into soft circles with the tips of his fingers.

"S-shut up..." Steve was more embarrassed than Loki would've guessed, but it only made him sweeter and more lovable, a pout turning his lips downward and a furrow in his brow that withheld the pleased emotions that he showed with the soft sighs of pleasure as the knots of muscle were worked through, turning the boy's body into jelly. "You're the one who did this to me."

"Indeed I did, and I would gladly do it _over and over again._" Steve gasped, trying in vain to push the bigger man away. Loki kissed his neck, lingering there to take in all of the sights and smells of his lover, kissing at the vein barely visible just under the skin. "Worry not; I was not planning to try it again until you feel you are up to it. I _did_ make a promise to your safety, after all, and I intend to keep it." He could feel the tensions release in Steve's shoulders, letting them sag under the weight of him.

They lay still, beyond exhausted and warm against one another, falling in and out of catnaps and barely lucid consciousness, and Steve was very aware of Loki petting his hair, his back, and everywhere else he could lay his hands, trying to send away all the pain and tightness, and Steve couldn't help but sigh and arch against the heat, feeling so safe and at home that he wondered why he hadn't done this any sooner.

_Because, _his mind declared to no one in particular, _it had to be him, and only him. This is how it was meant to be, and how it should always be. _Steve snorted, arousing his lover from his dream, because only Loki could make a 10-year-old orphan come even close to waxing poetic.


	11. Chapter 11

"So, _how exactly _do you know where we're goin'? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but...y'know..." Bucky finally voiced his swirling thoughts, after two long hours of strenuous walking in the near-abandoned streets of Brooklyn. _Not that I can blame them, looks like a storm is blowing in. _The skies were a deadly shade of dark gray, with thick layers of darkness and cloud-cover that seemed to swallow up all the matter it touched, pulling it deeper into the pitch. "The sky looks about ready to rain buckets."

Thor turned around, and he looked more like a thunder god than any time he'd ever seen him before, with his eyes widened and sparking like the lightning he brought with him. There was a certain supercharged energy about him, enough to make a large man such as himself appear childlike, a boy on Christmas rather than a deity from another dimension.

"Fear not, for the rains and waters will not fall until my command leaves me. That is my realm," he murmurs excitedly, pointing off into the growing storm with a slight smile, "and it obeys me and me alone. As long as you remain by my side, no harm will come to you." He touched the boy with what he assumed was a soft pat, which felt more like a pounding on the other end, but the comfort was felt all the same. Bucky just sighed and continued onward, feeling small.

The wind whipped and howled, sending forgotten newspapers soaring like kites through the air, with Bucky trying to keep his own against the tide but slipping farther and farther behind. Words flew out of his mouth, as loud as he could, but to no avail, for the thunder god neither turned around nor made any motion of hearing him at all. A surge of panic bubbled up in his chest, and his breathing escalated to a quick panting that internally terrified him.

"_Thor! Stop! I can't... keep going! Please!" _And before he could even process what was happening, he was pulled hurriedly forward into an old apartment, with Thor grasping his wrist with enough force to leave finger-shaped bruises when he let go. Bucky, now off-balance, tumbled to the carpet, feeling a manic urge to run away and escape this madness, to escape this man who had so much power and sway over him.

"I...apologize for that. Your face looked afraid, and I reacted without thinking to the situation. If I may ask for your forgiveness. I am not an adept comrade after all..." His voice was lowly, far quieter that Bucky had ever heard it be, a near whisper as the god kneeled before him, his head hung low in shame and what might possibly be guilt. The huge fists were curled sharply inward, and Bucky slowly moved closer, crawling on his hands and knees until he sat before him.

"I-It's, uhm, okay, honestly. You just wanna go and find your brother, right? I'm the one who's getting in your way, so... You don't need to be sorry for me." His heart thumped anxiously in his chest, even more than it usually did around Thor, but he took a shaky breath and continued on. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

_Godamnit, please don't let him look up and see me! This isn't manly at all! _A hand reached up and stroked his hair, which should have _really _bothered him but somehow continued to be a comfort. He twitched at first, still tense, but later let his muscles relax and give way to the calloused palm that touched him gently, more so than he would have thought possible.

"I will allow no such thing," he murmured after a long silence, an amiable growl of a voice that made the boy further convinced that this man was a lion after all. "You are but a child still, and I will not take any burdens from you that you do not have the power to give. Now," he stood, pointing to the far side of the complex where a pile of blankets suddenly materialized, "We must sleep, for, on the morrow, perhaps we will meet the people that we seek."

A strong pull lifted Bucky to his feet, and he crept after Thor, feeling as meek and timid as a small child would, and _that is completely unacceptable! Bucky Barnes, you have Steve to protect, so you can't let your guard down! _And yet, as Thor flopped down to the floor and patted the spot beside him, his mouth went completely dry and he could barely play off the stumbling of his suddenly-useless legs. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink that he hoped to God looked natural.

"You want to... sleep together... with me?" His voice cracked, and he had to fight the urge to vomit all over again. Thor only chuckled and smoothed out the blankets beside him, looking so amused that it made him angry. He huffed, sitting down beside him and trying desperately not to make eye-contact, but failing to omit the whimper as strong arms pulled him against his larger chest.

"It is the best way to do things, yes? **Now sleep." **If anyone could command children to sleep, it was the god of thunder. Curling towards him, he nestled closer, falling deeper into the well that was dreams and slipping over into the brink, until only the god's words were left of his senses.

"Farewell to the Night Realm, Bucky Barnes, and may the gods bring you peace and safe return."


	12. Chapter 12

An echo awakened the Thunder God from his deep slumber late in the night, which, all in all, wasn't such an unusual thing. When the rains came down on Midgard, it was a great time to be alive indeed, and when Thor visited, he couldn't help but lie awake and on edge, listening to the sounds that were so loud and encompassing to him they were a second nature. But, this noise was too quiet... much like a human voice.

"**Who goes there?" **The child atop him stirred slightly, grimacing with a downturned lip that Thor found somewhat endearing, and curled back to sleep. Gently pushing the boy off to the side, albeit reluctantly, he slid to his feet, consciously trying to mask his footsteps as his ears searched for the sound, one that Thor couldn't place. He circled the wall, feeling the noise intensify as he grew closer to the left of the back corner of the room. All was silent for a split second and then, suddenly, the noise sprung back to life, a whimper of some sort from the opposite apartment, the one right beside their temporary refuge.

"_Perhaps someone is in danger..." _The thought swam in his mind for a second, with Thor still half dressed and groggy from his rude awakening, until it sunk in deep and his eyes widened. _A human could be in danger on the other side of this wall! An enemy could be drawing the life out of them as I ponder! I must go and assist them! _Striding to the door, he quickly turned the handle on the lock of the door, trying not to flinch as the wooden frame squealed on its hinges, revealing the howling winds and pouring rain streaming from the uncovered apartment complex, creating deep puddles around the god's bare ankles.

His blue eyes looked back for a moment, to the orphan still tangled in his large shirt, huddled under thick blankets like a rodent during the first frosts. A twinge of regret was felt through his heart, as he _knew _the boy would panic at his absence. _I will not be gone for such a long duration, _he rationalized, _he will not know of my disappearance. _He nodded a silent goodbye and slipped out into the chaos, feeling more the hero than he should have been.

(Chapter Break)

Bucky awoke to ribbons of cold air streaming down his spine. He trembled, goose bumps rising on the exposed skin of his upper back, encompassing his body with an obtrusive cold that forced him to rise, grumbling softly to himself with some choice swear words that he _dare not _tell Steve._ Hmm, geez Thor, you could've told me you were getting up... Wait... Thor?!_

His heart skipped a beat as he realized the god was _not there, not there at all! Oh god, where did he go?!_ Breath came in quick gulps of air, quickly escaping through his lungs like it did even exist at all, making his breathing shallow and thin with his panic. Standing on too-shaky legs, he quickly raced around the apartment, tripping over exposed floorboards through the kitchen and the empty rooms. The dizziness was catching up, making his stomach churn as he collapsed on the floor.

_You're not gonna cry... Damnit Bucky, you can't cry, you can't! _ _**Don't do it...**_

"_**Don't do it Godamnit...!**_" Tears began to stream from his cheeks, making choke and sob, _because he was all alone, wasn't he? He got left again! _It was an empty, suffocating sadness, the ones Steve was so good at calming him down from when it got to be too much. "Steve..."

Every image of _them _flashed through his head, Steve slipping and falling but still laughing all the same, Thor reaching out to him and patting him on the head when he got lonely... It was a comfort, even if it stung a little, giving him cause to totter to his feet and walk towards the door, moving robotically to open the door, even when his hands shook on the lock _(which he would deny later, thanks!)_.

The wooden shack of the building itself was still drying from the torrents of the night, painting the wood an atrocious brown color that stank of unseen mold and mildew, enough to flare his nostrils from the pungency of the air. The entire structure seemed to sway disconcertingly in the wind, feeling more like a playground than a building, which he might have worried about if his head wasn't both numb and throbbing simultaneously.

His feet were scratched and scraped from the cheap base-board that was the floor, but he walked onward, stopping suddenly as his ears pricked at the growing noises from the adjacent room, with a voice so loud and rumbling that it couldn't have been anyone else but the comforting God of Thunder that he _may or may not _have a crush on. His cheeks flushed delightedly at the voice, which he immediately punished for his body's blatant betrayal.

"Well, should I open the door...? C'mon Buck, you gotta make up your mind..." The pep talk seemed to do him some good, resulting in a slight gesture and a hand on the door frame. _If you're a man, just do it! _He huffed, opening the door wide as he could, trying _not_ to cower behind the wall of wood as he stepped forward.

The image before him made his heart pound, igniting an intense heat through his body like a matchstick, and he could only stare blankly, with his best friend avoiding his gaze like a sickness he couldn't afford, a guilty blush from his forehead down.

"...S-Steve, what are you doing...?!"


	13. Chapter 13

Loki was comforting, which, now that he thought about it, was an unexpected feat in itself. His outside appearance, being naturally shrewd and sharp, belied the naturally soft, warm, _needy _person that Steve was so intimately acquainted with.

_It was so..._

He mumbled happy words into Loki's sleek, form-fitting turtleneck as they huddled like penguins on the couch, sharing the gratifying body heat, listening to the staccato pounding of the raindrops falling, with the echo from the roof slowly lulling him into a peaceful slumber.

"Hey now, wouldn't sleeping in a bed be preferable?" The unseen voice rumbled against his ears, a low timbre that was reached only through arousal or exhaustion, tumbling over his shirtless shoulders like the drops on the windows. This, along with the company of kneading fingers, released a animalistic whine from the depths of their little nest, with his legs twining farther around the larger man on instinct.

"_Don't waaaaaant toooo..." _A playful smack stung his lower back, sending him curling to the left side, sprawling the two on top of one another in fits of soft giggling. Steve pressed farther in, trying to stifle his amusement. "_Lokiiiii, you're a jerk. How could you take advantage of meeeeeee? Lokiiiii~" _In a quick motion, the man batted resistant hands away, pressing soft lips into the curve of his neck, where he was beginning to sweat.

"Alright, that's enough of that. You're not _as_ cute when you whine." His grip on twitching hands tightened incrementally, kissing and tracing the soft incline of the collarbone with the tip of his tongue, knowing _just how sensitive Steve was_ when their chests brushed, a moan slipping out from between bitten lips on accident. It was, however, just enough to feel all the blood get sucked south, and he moaned in facetious displeasure at that. "Oh Steve, how could you do this to me? Now I won't be able to sleep either."

Steve, now also feeling a little hot and bothered, sat up with a swish of his hips, arranging himself over Loki's lap _just so, _twitching as he felt the bulge against his thigh pulse as he rocked forward, unintentionally creating _astonishing _pressure as his body clenched. "Oh well, I suppose neither of us will be sleeping then. Don't go blaming me for something you started." It was a bit too brave and flirtatious for his usual self, but he felt the hands on his hip bones press bruises there, and wasn't going to regret it.

The blood was pounding in his ears, and he could sense only the quick huffs of breath against his collarbone, feeling for once that _Loki was more aroused than he was._ _His hands were all over, touching and caressing the paleness, residing into the dip between his pelvic bone and crotch, and __**oh, he was losing it, losing everythi-!**_

"**Brother... what are you doing?!" **The door slammed open, crashing against the right wall and sending water glasses careening to the floor, creating a din that was well worthy of the monstrous man standing with his fist clenched, soaking just outside the door frame.

He was tall, nearly as tall as Loki standing straight, and built in every way Loki was not. Blonde hair completed a strong face, the jaw tense in anger and shock as pride and strength flashed through his eyes, so foreign and impulsive that Steve would've begged to sketch him if that strong look was not aimed at him. Forgetting his fear and nudity for a moment, he slid off of Loki's lap, walking numbly to stand before him, feeling the odd sense of entrancement that he felt with Loki when they had met, and yet it _wasn't, was it?_

"Y-you're his...brother, Thor... aren't you?" And, for the moment Thor looked his way, he wondered just _how_ he looked in those charged blue eyes, half-naked with long scratch marks adorning his flanks and bites all over his neck and jaw, arousal obvious. _He must be disgusted, right? _ Offhandedly, he felt his lover come forward and take hold of his shoulder, something like a tether, keeping him grounded from his innate senses of terror and utter fascination.

The emerald eyes kept forward, looking straight into blue eyes with the ferocity of a wild cat, and the hissing under his words was not missed by either party. "_Thor, why are you here? Has Asgard finally bothered to wonder where I am?" _ The voice bit like cold steel, and Steve was far too afraid to look up and see the battles being fought within their gazes. _"Have they come crawling back for my forgiveness yet?" _

"_**Mother decided to take you back, you ingrate! She persuaded the Allfather to let you return with her tears, Brother! We spent days looking for you, and the Warriors Three traversed many worlds in search of you, and yet still you defy our wishes! You are a god and a prince, Loki, and you cannot hide from your fate!" **_

The voice pounded its way into his being, tearing apart his soul as it dug further and further under the skin. _Loki was a god... a real god. And he doesn't want to go home...exiled from there. A god...? _Dazed and forgotten by the two kin, he curled up into a ball, trying desperately to process everything as the deities warred across the room, becoming more and more tense and shaking as the fighting went on.

His internal clock told him that they had been fighting for hours, and yet, the nausea and the sheer rush of information wasn't leaving him, instead festering into his lungs, spreading like a disease that was burning him alive, encouraged only by the screaming and rage. It was so strong he could only compare it to one instance, and those people finished the argument with their lives.

_It must stop... They have to stop it! __**Please make them stop! Oh God, please! **_

And for the second time, the door pulled away from the walls and revealed someone unexpected, in the form of Bucky Barnes, looking just as sullen and sick as Steve felt, and he instinctually noticed the distress signs, the shaking hands and swelling eyelids. He ran, feet pounding against the wood as the brothers looked at him, watching as he collapsed into his best friend's embrace, the sickness welling up in the form of tears, unstoppable tears.

"Bucky, I'm scared..." He whimpered between heaves, feeling out of control and not willing to look at Loki, to see the disappointment and worry within them.

"Yeah... I'm scared, too. And I'm sorry for that." But, the crying between them seemed like forgiveness all over again.


	14. Chapter 14

Having his hand held was something Steve had always found to be comforting. Even as four bodies, albeit two of slightly smaller stature, crowded around a table most likely meant for one or two, the soft impressions of slender fingers pressing into his skin, along with the very familiar shoulders to his left and right succeeded in releasing the withheld tensions from the depths of his lungs.

Although the silence wasn't doing much for him.

As the rain had started up again, and with it the lack of heating, four shivering forms curled around the table, with Thor and Loki sitting opposite one another, with Loki looking _especially _murderous, but still grasping on to his thumb and pointer finger, and Bucky on his left flank, sitting as close as one could get to the Thunder God without actually sitting in his lap, which would have been prophetic if Steve had moved a little more.

If silences had weight, this one would have crushed them. _Something has to be said. We can't just sit here all night... _He bit his lip, feeling his heart stir and rumble in his chest, accompanied by the usual nausea that occurred under stress. His breathing was starting to rattle, drowned out enough by the clattering of the rain so that only he realized it was there at all. The situation was feeling more and more bleak, and he didn't know if he could stand it.

Fortunately, a warm hand pressed against his back, alerting him for a moment. "Steve... are you okay?" A genuine pair of anxious brown eyes glanced at him, with emotions that he recognized and ones that he did not, swirling tumultuously in the new shadows and lines beneath them. It terrified him that he couldn't recognize him, but he withheld the notion, because he probably didn't look any different.

"Yeah...," he murmured, putting on a smile that seemed to melt his cheekbones. "I'm alright. I didn't mean to panic like that, especially over something so trivial. Sorry." The last part was true enough, enough to try and waive three glances of pity away, because it was the last thing he wanted from _anyone. _

Thor coughed after a moment, sounding more thunderous than usual in the tepid silence, and started up on his speech. It was a bit quieter than expected. "Brother... How long have you resided in this place? I searched all of Midgard, and not a trace of you was to be found, yet your countenance suggests that you have spent much time here." He motioned vaguely to the objects of the room, including the shattered glass from his unorthodox entry, swept into a corner dejectedly, as Loki refused to let Steve clean it. "And the boy...? Have you been _using_ him all o-"

Loki's fists slammed the table, resounding with a loud crack that left a dent in the wood. "_You have __**no **__right to insult my choices, brother! __**None! **__And especially not the ones that I hold dear and protect willingly!" _His voice rose into a hiss, reverberating through clenched teeth. "_I will not tolerate such hypocrisy, not now, and not ever." _

Both boys flinched as Thor rose from his seat, hands clasping against one another like lifelines. Thunder rumbled into the black, and it couldn't have been more appropriate. "And** what do you mean by that, Loki?" **The voice, in contrast to Loki's, roared and rumbled in pitch, having enough weight to topple them over, but Loki laughed bitterly, a spite that couldn't have been matched by any other god, revealing the cold and oppressed undertones that Steve wasn't even aware existed. His palms began to sweat, but Bucky leaned closer, hands touching in every way they could.

"Come now, _brother dear, don't you see the way he looks at you? How close and dear your contact means to him? _Even _I _can tell you that something abnormal is going on, and yet you can't notice anything at all." Loki glances to them both, and the palm entwined with his bursts into a heat that was so familiar it made his heart ache with longing. Bucky looks downward quickly, body tensing up in embarrassment and a tension so heavy the blonde swears he could smell it.

In that moment, Thor's entire expression changes, with a shift of his eyes, now wide in understanding, and the thick tree trunks of his legs begin to shake and topple, an oak slowly being removed by an axe. The absurdly pronounced muscles hunch in on themselves, as if the strain of gravity was too much, sending him to the floor. But not once did his eyes leave their target, a very terrified brunet still clutching his best friend's hand.

"Child..." Thor was at a crouch now, kneeling in front of Bucky now that Steve had scooted away unnoticed, still obnoxiously tall in Bucky's opinion, _not that he was looking or anything! _The heat felt sweltering under his skin, so hot the Sun paled in comparison, and the need to pass out was becoming more and more prevalent.

"Do you feel such things?" He took in a quick breath, and time stopped. Steve and Thor's brother ceased to exist, and the feeling of this god was surrounding him, the thick musky scent and the folds of muscle in his vision began to swell and blur as the tears slipped out again, along with the _shame _and the _disgust _and every negative, terrible emotion he'd could ever feel all piled up into a great heap of shaking child and the smell of saline.

_I'm sorry, please forgive me, I didn't mean to! I didn't mean it! _The words must have tumbled out of his mouth, a cascade of sentiment that Bucky wasn't even lucid enough to filter, for he looked up and caught a fleeting glimpse of blue before he was swallowed up into the warmth and heat of the very person he was crying about, pressed up against the solid chest that he clutched at intensely, because it made him _happy. It made him so happy that he wanted to dance and cry and hug Steve over and over, because it was __**safe.**_

He had no recollection of how long he'd cried, because when he'd looked up, Thor looked tired. It was an old, ancient tired that must have taken centuries to come by, mixed with an accepting face that would have been enough to send him into sobs again if he had anything left in him. Instead, Thor lifted him up with his monster strength of his, carrying him to the couch as the other two looked on, both with similar faces of understanding, as Steve wandered off to retrieve blankets from the linen closet and Loki watching with exhaustion.

The god soothed his young charge to sleep, feeling all of the years catch up with him as Steven sat next to him, watching Thor with an interesting face that seemed older than he was. "Thor..."

"Yes?"

The blonde looked up with a posture and a stance of a much larger man. "Do you understand why Loki wants to make love to me now?" There was no embarrassment or taunting in his words, only a query, and Thor marveled at it for a moment, as there was much to ponder.

"In all truths, I think I do." The smile that Steve gave to that was enough of an answer, and he curled away from him, now situated on Loki's shoulder in a domestic way that brought the whole of reality back to him, with Loki refusing to look at him but being close all the same. The clock ticked on, and, as Thor felt sleep cloud him, a voice seeped through the haze.

"Brother, I love him."

"Loki..."

"Hmm?"

"I love mine, too." And a laugh pushed him into welcoming darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to write this, because my ideas for where this was going were seriously sucking... Yeah, I don't have any excuses... So! If you have any suggestions, feel free to give 'em to me, because I tend to get stuck. Thanks!**

**XXX**

"So, you've been living here all this time..." Bucky mumbled from his rest upon the back of the chair, staring intensely into the tiles. "And, with that guy..." He couldn't remove the disgust from his tone, even as he heard the soft sound and the wince that followed it. _Steve is someone to be protected, so how could I let either of us get here, damnit?! _His fists clinched on impulse, and the gritted teeth were an after-effect, as he was accustomed to too many years of looking scarier than he felt.

_Have I failed as the person I wanted to be?_

After all, it was _Steve _who had first reached a hand out to him, even at the expense of being pummeled and injured by kids double his size, Steve who took the hits without a single sound, _Steve Rogers_ who, even though he had half a dozen illnesses at the time, still reached out and helped someone he'd never met just for the sake of heroics. _And he couldn't save him from someone who might take advantage... _

"Bucky, I don't need to be saved..." And there he was, the beautiful blonde orphan kid whom he could never ignore with the same serious focus that was always there, leaning from above him like the bigger person he deserved to be, something that the fates should have given him if life were fair. "Honestly."

"I know, but that's the only thing I can do. There isn't anything else." He choked on those words, but still looked up, wanting to know and still dreading the answer.

"Are you sure? Have you ever tried looking at me differently, because I don't _deserve _being saved by anyone." He turned around after a moment, glancing at the dark shapes and shadows in the wall as if they were old friends, acquaintances he had lost. "My job is to save myself, and to make my own way through it, regardless of what happens. _No matter who looks my way._"

And the look in his eyes was suffocating, so resilient and strong that it reminded him of the god contently dozing in the next room, a blanket pressed close to his chest and hair still drying. Except, this time, the feeling of being small was uplifted and replaced by the gradual swell of admiration expanding in his chest like a flower in the Sun.

"I love you, Buck." The tensions rose to a dramatic climax, and Bucky was trapped again. "I love you for everything you've ever given me, the friendship, the protection, and the love itself." A smile that was opalescent graced for a moment, curtailed by a moment of aching. "But I love Loki too, when he's kind and when he touches me. I love both of you, and I can't be only yours or only his."

And, bed head and all, Thor wandered lazily into the kitchen, posture slumped with sleep but eyes piqued with understanding. "For a child, I have begun to wonder if you are wiser than I. I feel dwarfed from the knowledge both of you share." It was most probably a joke, but Steve shuffled embarrassedly and Bucky murmured his soft thanks into his palms out of pure unsteadiness.

"You are very welcome." This, followed by a soft kiss to the side of his temple, succeeded in transforming Bucky into the first human stop sign, turning a shade of red that shouldn't have been achieved in nature. Steve laughed (_the traitor!) _and went along with serving up breakfast, lumping a sum of food on Thor's plate the size of Bucky's head and then some. The three sat around soon after, talking smack and chewing food, watching the still form in the next room.

"Uh, shouldn't we wake the guy up? Breakfast is gettin' cold."

"No, it's fine. He doesn't like eating in the morning." Steve gulped down a large piece of bacon, licking his lips of the grease as the brunette tried desperately not to watch.

"**Yes, Brother is not particularly fond of such pastimes." **Apparently Thor got louder with food, with his voice at his usual merry shout instead of the whisper it had been previously. It was enough to stand hair on end, but neither of them really minded or were unadjusted to it. In fact, Buck had found it soothing after a while, like a lion announcing his presence to the world with all its might. That was, until the lion laid its paw over his hands.

Unlike last time, though, he didn't get _as _red, instead turning a mixture of chalky pale and bright pink, as if he couldn't decided what color his face needed to be. Trying to stay calm, he pervasively slammed his friend's ankle with the point of his toes, hoping he was giving a good enough hint.

Steve _smirked,_ a facial expression that he hadn't ever seen before and prayed he see again, and slid off of the chair, excusing himself on Loki's behalf as he left the kitchen, with a flirtatious wink on the way out and a chuckle of amusement. _Shit, Steve, you really are __**not **__helpful!_

The boy squirmed in his chair, unable to physically keep still with a callused hand rubbing the hitch between the thumb and pointer finger, with electricity swarming his veins. He took time to observe the arm, with the thick smattering of hair and even skin tone, from triceps to the thick meat of the wrist bone. The pulse throbbed in his fingers, enough to see the rapid bouncing of the jugular and the continued motion of the throat. It was a bit too captivating, and he was reminded quickly of this morning, awakening to the heavy scent and warmth of blonde god.

Without warning, Thor bent forward, still tall enough to tower him, splaying the locks of blonde across his face with an abrasive scratch of stubble and a soft mouth. They touched down on the right corner of his mouth, so close to the quivering lips that his mouth moved against Thor's as he protested, words not doing a lick of good. His hips were grabbed as they finally centered, cracking his mouth open a touch to receive the invading tongue, the hotness and texture of the organ spreading his jaws apart.

The kiss was fantastic, still lingering on his lips with a buzz after his conqueror sat up, looking pleased as Bucky rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning the trailing saliva from the corners. Their breathing was obnoxious, and anyone could have heard it, but Thor was far beyond the brink of self-consciousness, dragging a heated Bucky Barnes along to the guestroom.

"Thor, are you alright...?" The god turned, gazing straight into the eyes of a child, looking apprehensively back, a prevailing fear and trust mirrored towards him.

He smiled, unsure of what his face looked like, but comforted by the relaxation of his love's stiff body. "Yes, but now, let me return the favor."

The two barreled into the bedroom, leaving an amused Trickster and a content orphan alone on the couch, because they knew _far too much._


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: I know I'm really late on updating this fic, but I've been so busy with real life I haven't had any time to do anything but sleep in and hope I don't keel over. So, read my next pathetic attempt at writing Loki's dialogue...**

**XXX**

A song was on Loki's mind, just hovering out of reach as he stepped outside for the first time in quite a while. The rain-soaked morning of Thor's arrival had passed over, leaving a trail of days full of arguments and soothing nights in its wake like the hurricane it was. He couldn't help but laugh to himself as he swerved around the ditch near the long stretch of pavement, remembering a particularly loud quarrel startling Steven enough to stumble into the water jug on the table, much to the amusement of Thor. _He had made such a terrible face, too._

The day was far too bright for his liking, but with a subtle fog around the corners that made it seem dreamy and swirling, as Loki Laufeyson went to go fetch more food and snacks from the hole-in-the-wall corner store just down the street. It wasn't that he was too pleased to be out and around the presence of other mortals, but asking _Thor _to go get them was asking a three-year-old to sit and not touch anything.

"If he weren't so _utterly useless, _it wouldn't have been such a task for me regardless." The seething remarks that escaped his thoughts were enough to chase everyone present to the farthest distance possible, but the raven paid little mind to them, instead slamming the glass door behind him as he entered one of the few Midgardian places he ever visited, scratching his shoes along the linoleum.

It was completely empty, which the god chalked up to being an odd time of the morning to even to be out and about, with no one at the front or perusing the aisles. Sighing to himself as he picked out the items from his mental lists and tucked them into the pockets of his coat, he never once glanced up.

That is, until he felt _it._

The singular pulsing entity of magic that suddenly appeared within his sensual radar, a complete and abrupt burst of power that made everything so much lesser and opaque. Not only a power of strength, but also one of familiarity, too close to his own knowledge and recollection that it drew to his heart the aching sense of nostalgia.

Time slowed, his senses adjusting to the figure behind, not bothering with turning around to see, for there was only one person to unravel him this way.

"There has been many a rumor that you had truly disappeared. I never believed it."

"Of course you wouldn't. If I had died, who would Thor use as means of heroism then?" The snarl of pain that he felt arose on his face as his body turned slowly, face to face with the means of his love and demise. "Isn't that right, _Mother?_"

It was too much.

**XXX**

Thor was far more adept at magic than his brother ever would have guessed. Though the inner workings and advanced arts were null to him, the Thunder God couldn't help but feel the entirety of him stand on end and tense.

_Brother? No, not quite... _His brow furrowed in concentration, making what he was sure was a terribly scrunched face as blue eyes gazed out into the solitary window near the doorframe, into the foggy-sunny miasma of the day with a certain panic welling up from the depths of him.

"Somethin' wrong?" Even without rolling over, the voice of a confused Bucky alerted him, and he could practically _see _the expression on the small face, a chewed lip here, an arched eyebrow there, with eyes that darkened ever so slightly with the confusion and focus on his target. But, of course, he rolled over anyway, sending the rickety mattress groaning against the springs.

"I am not completely certain," he spoke softly, turning his face to meet the child regardless, watching the cheeks brighten a tone with embarrassment, "Do not worry yourself. I'm sure that it is only paranoia." Unconsciously, he reached over to pet the boy affectionately, still very much aware of the fact that they were both completely naked and that Bucky had dark love bites up and down his skin. It was fairly teasing, with Bucky keeping the blanket _just so, enough so Thor couldn't see past his fleshy hips_ _for Odin's sake!_

"I _feel as if you are tempting me_." The voice was a deep masculine growl, making him pause long enough for the larger man to slip his hands under the blanket and across his lower back, squeezing the giving flesh with a urgency that made Bucky whimper. His hips canted up to grind against the firm muscles on reflex, sending him a surge of sensation up his nerves.

It was so nerve-wracking and _sinful, _aroused by a grade school boy rutting in short bursts against his skin, so desperate and in need to relieve the pressure that was building under the skin. Kisses were peppered across the plump thighs, with Thor sucking at a particularly sensitive spot just above the knee that had the brunette calling out his name.

"_T-t- __**Thor..." **_It was drawn out into a long whine, laced with arousal and the nervousness that followed it close behind, because, even if they'd done it more than once, the body-shyness and anxiety didn't seem to fade as much as Thor liked it to. So, instead of fretting, he pulled his shoulders up, suspended above the trembling body with easy strength.

"As I have shown you pleasure once, let me show you in a different way." The statement had a questioning air to it, which made the slightly-terrified Bucky Barnes nod in agreement, watching his lover sink back down between his spread legs. **"Sit up, and then kneel down facing me." **This was the one voice he couldn't refuse, and he quickly followed instructions, eyes now level with the pronounced abdominals and... _other things._

"Good," he cooed, tracing the inside of the exposed thighs, "I like you when you're obedient. Now, let's see if you can do more of what I tell you." He rocks forward, pressing against the side of his face to suck the shell of the ear, breathing air into the ear drum to induce heart-racing shivers,

With all the blood rushing elsewhere, the ones who could help most were left to their own amusements, a blond boy napping silently in the room nearest to them, none of them knowing that the Trickster god had been taken, once again, back home.


	17. Chapter 17

What followed in the days ahead was an emptiness a child should never know. In the instance of knowing the truth of his lost brother, Thor's presence disappeared from the Earth as well, leaving a forlorn Bucky who spoke very little and Steve with a sadness that had could not be tamed by any act of happiness.

Even a week after, when Steve arose, once again lounging in the dark alleys he'd called home up until recently, the Earth was mottled, the shades and dark spotting of bitterness welling up in his lungs with a painful wheezing cough. Hacking, he shifted to an upright position with a swerve of vertigo, feeling his senses roll and heave in the littered street in which he slept, and there was a whisper as Buck arose by his side, pressing a knowing hand to his spine out of habit.

"Just let all out, Steve."

He nodded, feeling the betrayal multiply and grow inwardly, welling up in the form of tears as they inevitably always did. They were hot and painful, burning with the pain they concealed as the scourging tracks raced across and down his shaking chest, pooling in the sickly depression of his collarbone. _This wasn't supposed to happen... They were supposed to say... Supposed to stay forever..._

He sobbed harder than he ever had in his entire life, wailed and shrieked and moaned at the fading images of the clouds and the moon that kept his love away from him, feeling the silent apparition of his best friend clutching desperately to his side as the truth hit home: _No one was coming. There was nobody to protect them, to stay and love and __**feel **__for them anymore. _

_Everyone was gone._

"They're never coming back..." It ripped him apart, tore at his flesh much more than a knife could ever, but the truth escaped his throat somehow, hanging in the stale air as the echoes of grief reverberated and eventually faded into nothingness. Buck leaned over for a moment, gazing up into the eyes of his most loved person, a sickly hue glazed over with illness and too many emotions for him to watch without being swallowed into the abyss they withheld.

"Bucky, they _will never... come back." _And in the fierce delirium that consumed him, Bucky knew it too, knew that the parting smile of the Thunder God was the only one he would ever see again, so beautiful and strong and _lonely _it haunted him in the darkest points, hovering and unattainable to him. He felt the familiar urge to vomit.

"I know..."And it was all Steve needed to throw himself into his friend's embrace, sniveling into his neck and hairline like the child he'd convinced his body that he couldn't be. The shoulders leaned back a slightly, with Bucky now nose to nose, tears streaming down his cheeks in a wretched mirror of sadness and desolation. Everything shook and shattered in Steve as a warm kiss was pressed to the temple and his blazing cheeks, drawing him closer and entwining them into one person, one grieving, sobbing entity.

The alley, always empty and disgusting, held something more precious and heart-wrenching than any person could ever bear. Their two bodies, so close and broken, were pressed close with the necessity of another's comfort and affection. The night wore on, and neither parted from as they were.

From the depths of despair, love, and betrayal, Steven Rogers clutched onto his best friend and partner-in-crime, a Trickster weighing on his heart as time passed on into the night.

**XXX**

**Author's Note: Alright guys, so I guess that's it. I'm not sure if I want to do a one-shot sequel or something like that, but if you want me to, please send me some reviews. The ending was pretty ruthless, even for me, and I even made myself cry... Poor Steve... I always knew it wasn't going to end well, but I took the hard way of doing it. Sorry, and thanks.**


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